A leap worth Making

Chapter Twelve: Follow the Leader

Madoc was delirious, events of his life in Qator kept surfacing and confusing him. He was in bed with Lady Marissa, her lithe body and alabaster skin entwined with his – feeding him olives, then grapes. They were in a high tower of the palace, the summer breeze from the open window stroking across her hair. He told her he loved her and she laughed in delight and asked him in a dreamy voice,

"If I asked, would you jump from the window?"

He had replied,

"Of course, my darling."

Her voice had hardened, becoming as hard as glass, etched with curiosity at how much power she had over him.

"Then do it."

Madoc woke up to daylight, and the noise of birdsong. For a moment he felt relaxed and well, before a wave of nausea reminded him his head had been stamped on. He tried to twist round to vomit and his back spasmed; luckily he didn't have anything in his stomach.

"He's awake, told you he'd wake up."

"I'm glad you were right Carlson." Stitches said.

"Hey Madoc, how're you feeling?" Carlson asked.

"Don't answer that Sir, he's trying to vomit Carlson, which should tell you enough."

Stitches helped Madoc to sit straight and pulled back an eyelid,

"Concussion, but I don't think your skull's fractured. What do you want to do Sir?"

Madoc wanted to go back to sleep, instead he reached out for help and clambered painfully to his feet. Tentatively he tried to raise his arms above his head, then thought better of it.

"Carlson, can you ride?"

"Really well Sir, though my broken ankle's going to be a bit tricky."

Madoc searched his face for a sign that he was trying to be funny, but Carlson was just answering honestly. The archer wasn't the brightest buckle on a harness.

"Stitches?"

"Fine Sir."

"The others will be on our trail so we need to backtrack to meet them. We're going now. Let's get mounted up. You fetch a horse for Carlson, then rope up the spare mounts."

They took too long getting going, Stitches had been badly beaten by the barbarians and he and Madoc found even the simplest tasks, like fastening saddle girths extremely difficult. Eventually they were underway, and Carlson took the lead riding a quarter of a mile in front.

After only a couple of hours he rode back and said,

"There's movement ahead Sir."

"Is it them?"

"I couldn't tell Sir."

"It could be them, or if they've been hit it could be a war party - this trail's getting like a highway. We passed some cover a little way back, let's get hidden."

They trotted back, overshot the cover, and then angled round so their tracks didn't branch off too obviously. They went about three hundred yards off the trail behind a low ridgeline. When their mounts were hidden they lay concealed, waiting. Five minutes later a small group came into view - it was the rest of the patrol.

They were not a very impressive sight. Madoc could see that two of them, presumably Feathers and Pony were slumped forwards on their horses. The third rider, Nosy he assumed was walking his horse at the front.

"It's them, let's mount up, and go down."

They rode over the ridgeline a couple of minutes later and there was a flurry of movement below. Two dismounted and 'Nosy', rode towards them and then stopped with his lance upright, ready to charge.